


(Day 4) Homing

by mydwynter



Series: January Sherlock Vignette Challenge [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Gen, Homing Universe, Humour, January Sherlock Vignette Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:35:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydwynter/pseuds/mydwynter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You really shouldn't leave your homing stone just anywhere, love."</p><p>Sherlock huffs and folds down to the cot in the cells at New Scotland Yard, his coat swaddling him as he presses his mobile to his ear. "It wasn't just anywhere, Mrs. Hudson. It was in my flat."</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Day 4) Homing

**Author's Note:**

> My mind rebels in stagnation. So every day for the month of January I'm posting a Sherlock vignette, born out of prompts from generators and friends alike.
> 
> Also known as, "Mydwynter, post. Now."
> 
> Today's prompt: Sherlock, Mrs Hudson, Magical Realism, NSY, “Chastisement”  
> Thanks to Mazarin221B for the beta.

"You really shouldn't leave your homing stone just anywhere, love."

Sherlock huffs and folds down to the cot in the cells at New Scotland Yard, his coat swaddling him as he presses his mobile to his ear. "It wasn't just anywhere, Mrs. Hudson. It was in my flat."

"It was on your coffee table where anyone could take it, Sherlock. And you and John don't always lock up when you go, so who knows who could just come in."

"You, obviously," Sherlock says sullenly.

"And aren't you glad I did."

"Not in the sligh—"

"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson stops him with a word. "You must be more _careful_. If you-know-who got a hold of it, he could take serious advantage. Put it somewhere you really wouldn't want to be transported. Or worse."

"Worse than somewhere I really wouldn't want to be transported?"

"Please don't take that sarcastic tone with me, Sherlock. I'm only trying to help."

"Mrs. Hudson. You've taken me away from meeting Lestrade, caught me in one of the Yard’s damned cells, just to illustrate a point? Who helped you? Someone must have locked the stone in the cell. Who was it? Gregson? Phillips? No, this is too much for Phillips, he's new…"

"Sherlock," Lestrade says from outside the cell, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Sherlock's head snaps over, and his expression transforms from surprise to burning accusation. "Lestrade."

"Oh, there he is," Mrs. Hudson trills. "Tell him thank you for me, coming to pick up the sto—" Sherlock rings off and rises to his feet, glaring.

"Why."

"Why what, Sherlock."

"Is there even a case? Or was that constructed as part of your clever ruse to 'teach me a lesson'? Did she call you once I'd left the house without my stone, or was this all a big…No, you've been planning this together, haven't you." Sherlock's eyes narrow even more as he stalks over to the bars and tries to shove his face through them in an attempt to force his way into Lestrade's personal space. It fails spectacularly when Lestrade just takes half a step back and continues to smirk amusedly. "That's why she was making biscuits yesterday. I thought they were for downstairs, but no. You have crumbs stuck to your trouser leg, Lestrade."

Lestrade rolls his eyes. "You can't eat those biscuits neatly either, Sherlock." He sighs and unlocks the cell, standing far back to allow Sherlock the room to sweep out dramatically. Which of course he does, then backs Lestrade against the corridor's wall.

"Do save yourself the trouble and refrain from 'teaching me a lesson' again, if you don't mind? It just makes you look ridiculous." Sherlock's eyes flick down to the biscuit crumbs caught in Lestrade's tie, then he growls and sweeps off toward the exit.

Lestrade is closing the cell door when he notices a small aquamarine stone sitting on the cot. He freezes, then grins, and slips into the cell to retrieve Sherlock's homing stone. He pockets it with a mischievous look. Then the DI closes up the cell door and strolls back to his desk, whistling an impressively jaunty tune.


End file.
